


We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet

by starbear (panda_hiiro)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_hiiro/pseuds/starbear
Summary: After the war for Earth, Shiro and Lance welcome a new year together. Relatively canon compliant, post S7.
Relationships: Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a winter holiday zine. New Year's is actually one of my favorite holidays: both because of the opportunity to reflect on the past, and the hope of looking forward to the future. I think it would hold particular poignancy for Shiro towards the end of the series.

_December 31, 2xxx_

_24:45_

There’s no danger of snow out here in the empty stretch of desert occupied by the Galaxy Garrison, just dry air with slight chill and the distant noise of celebration rising up to the dormitory roof. Far removed from the source of the sound, Shiro lingers, as quiet as the silent bulk of the _IGF Atlas_ looming like a watchful guardian outside the base. He should be down there with everyone ushering in the new year, the first in a long time without the shadow of the Galra bearing down on Earth.

He should be down there, but instead he’s here, alone, under the wide, dark canopy of stars, waiting for the countdown to begin. When was the last time he’d celebrated the new year? Time seems little more than a vague, abstract concept to him now, and reconciling what has passed for him with what has passed on Earth is something he doesn’t want to linger on. It’s been six years, if he’s counting right, since he left this planet for the first time; both he and his home have changed, indelibly, since then. The strange weight of his right arm floating next to him and the hollow ache in his heart serve as constant reminders of what he’s lost, tangibles he holds onto to steel himself in his new purpose. He’s going to need that resolve, going forward. He can’t afford to look back. 

But New Year’s Eve is a time of reflection, and now, tonight, he can’t help his thoughts lingering on what has already passed. 

For the chance to explore the stars, he gave up his past and his home. For the chance to survive, he gave up his body and his humanity. For the chance to fight back, he became something more than himself, and then he gave that up, too. Since then, what has he gained in return? 

Behind him, the door to the roof opens, followed by a familiar pattern of footsteps. He would recognize any of his team, even blind, and so before he turns around he knows it’s Lance. Shiro smiles - the last time he’d seen him, Lance had been in a hospital bed, so the unexpected visit comes as a welcome surprise. 

“You’re looking better,” Shiro says. It’s true - the fact that Lance is even alive is a miracle, and that he’s recovered well enough without the aid of a healing pod to be standing here is almost impossible to believe. They’ve all had their share of miracles, over the past few years. 

“Thanks. You know, that’s usually my line,” Lance says, with a grin, and Shiro finally notices the thin glasses in Lance’s hands, each filled with a crystal, fizzling liquid. “Here, brought you something.”

Lance offers a glass to Shiro; he accepts, and takes a small, experimental sip. 

“Is this champagne?” 

“It is indeed,” Lance says, “You have _no_ idea how hard it was to get a hold of, either.” 

“Color me impressed.” Shiro raises his glass. “To the New Year?” 

“To the New Year. Here’s hoping it’s significantly more awesome than the last.” Lance clinks his glass against Shiro’s, downs the contents in one gulp, and burps. “‘Scuse me.” 

“That was attractive.”

“I know,” Lance says, proudly. “But, seriously. What are you doing up here, anyway? I’ve been looking all over for you. You should be partying with everyone.” 

“Just getting some fresh air,” Shiro says. “What about you? It’s almost midnight. Shouldn’t you be with your family?” 

“Yeah, well.” Lance shrugs. “So should you.” 

Shiro gestures at the grand emptiness around him.

“Here I am.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro sees Lance flinch, and stare down at the ground. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, not unkindly. “I’ll join everyone later.” 

“Mind if I keep you company ‘til then?” 

“Be my guest,” Shiro says.

Lance stands beside him, chatting about whatever comes to mind, empty glass set aside and hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket - it’s been a long time since Shiro has seen him in civilian clothes, and the sight of him in anything other than armor or the pressed lines of the Garrison uniform is almost jarring. It makes him look softer, somehow, younger than he is - as if he were still the starry-eyed boy that had led them across the universe in a magical robot lion. Maybe, at heart, he is - Shiro would like to think that. He’d like to think some small piece of his younger self has survived too, that brash, idealistic kid hidden somewhere underneath a veneer of scars and silver hair. Shiro doesn’t know why it’s always Lance that makes him feel this way, laying bare that secret longing to shed the trappings of his uniform and find that person he’d once been. 

“Lance,” Shiro says, abruptly disrupting the stream-of-consciousness flow of Lance’s one-sided conversation, “Why are you really here?” 

Lance shrugs. 

“I didn’t think you should be alone.” 

Is that pity? Shiro bristles at the idea. But there’s something more to it, something in the way Lance won’t quite meet his gaze, a nervous, restless energy hovering about him. Lance never stands still, always caught in perpetual motion - shifting his weight from foot to foot, rolling his shoulders, twitching the hem of his jacket between his fingers. Shiro can count on one hand the times he’s seen Lance in repose - after the bombing of the Castle of Lions, and again, when they dragged his body out of the wreckage of the Red Lion after it fell back to Earth. A lump catches in Shiro’s throat as he remembers those times, that preternatural stillness, how wrong it had seemed to see someone so beautifully vibrant as Lance that way. 

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Lance blurts out, suddenly. 

Shiro turns, faces him, meets his gaze. In the low, ambient light, Lance’s eyes are dark and fathomless, holding hidden depths of blue. Shiro waits, patient, as Lance starts and stops and tries again. 

“Shiro, I…”

A flash of light, and the muffled sound of an explosion - they both tense instinctively, flinching at the noise, but when they look up a shower of red and golden sparkles glitters in the air like stardust. The trained look of alert focus eases off of Lance’s face, replaced by wide-eyed, child-like wonder as the second firework goes off, followed by a third, and another after that. Shiro hears them, the distant, drumming echo of each rocket, but his eyes linger on Lance - some unnameable emotion swells in his chest to see him like this, to know that, after everything, after all of it, Lance can still find pure, unabashed joy in simply being alive. 

Shifting bands of red and blue and gold illuminate Lance’s face when he turns towards Shiro, mouth parted as if to speak, their eyes locking for just a moment before Lance catches the front of Shiro’s uniform and pulls Shiro down to meet him in an abrupt, messy kiss. The force of it is sudden enough to leave Shiro breathless, but Lance’s mouth is warm and inviting against his own, and on instinct he brings his left hand up to cup the back of Lance’s head, pulling him closer, tasting the bright flavor of champagne lingering on his tongue. When they part, there’s a moment that hangs in the air between them, heavy with expectation, until Lance says, voice trembling with uncertainty, 

“Happy New Year.”

Shiro cups Lance’s face with his left hand, his thumb brushing his cheek. There’s a lot he wants to say - there’s a lot he _needs_ to say right now. For starters, maybe ‘thank you.’ 

Maybe ‘I love you.’ 

What he settles for instead is, 

“Happy New Year to you, too,” which he knows is ridiculously banal even as it leaves his mouth, but he can hope that Lance hears the hidden meaning in it, the depth of emotion lying in those simple words that he can’t otherwise express. Lance’s face gentles into a smile, and Shiro thinks, perhaps, that he does understand, after all. 

As the fireworks continue their off-beat rhythm, they’re joined by the distant sound of voices raised in song. Lance and Shiro both still for a moment, straining to hear, then smile when they recognize the melody and, in unison, join in. Shiro slips his hand into Lance’s, feels their fingers lock and intertwine - there’s a promise in that contact, a whisper of something new about to begin.

It’s worth looking forward to. 

_“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_And never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_And auld lang syne?_

_For auld lang syne, my dear,_

_For auld lang syne,_

_We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”_

  
  



End file.
